writing for self-discovery

The sky tonight is pink and blue, a poetry sky. It spans overhead like a serene blanket of calm. It holds soft promise of sleep undisturbed by storm.  

I have come from visiting a friend. We spoke for hours about climate change, our concerns for a planet that is filling up with garbage, the violence of mankind toward the earth and toward each other. We wondered what the future holds for our children. We talked about the work of archaeologist Marija Gimbutas and about oil fracking. We touched briefly on spiritual matters, her Christian Science background, Tantric Buddhism, and the twelve Kalis. Over the hours together we covered a lot of ground and still had time for a delicious meal and a bottle of wine.  

It rained during dinner, cats and dogs for a few minutes, then settled into a light sprinkle. I texted my driver and told him I was ready. He arrived and I straddled the motorbike for a quick, refreshing ride home arriving just as the sun was setting. I paused to gaze at the raw perfection of that sky. How beautiful. No matter what we pump into it, CFC’s, carbon monoxide, sulfur, nitrogen, industrial wastes, at sundown it puts on a magnificent show. We don’t deserve it. Maybe if it were dirty gray, maybe if day after day the grime of it blocked the sun, maybe if we couldn’t escape the reality of the damage we are doing…maybe?

I ususally try to finish a post on an upbeat note, but search as I might, I can’t find the positive spin for this one. I suspect there may not be a ‘feel good’ ending to this story.